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Chapter 59 – An Ex’s Pury and a Dangerous Call
“None of your business,” I snapped, moving to stand between Julian and my
workstation. The blue fabric for Damien’s suit was my tribute to him, and I wouldn’t let Julian taint it with his jealous scrutiny
Julian stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “It’s for Sterling, Isn’t it? You’re already making him clothes like some devoted wife.”
The alcohol on his breath was overwhelming as he invaded my space. I stood my ground, though my heart hammered against my ribs.
“You need to leave, Julian. Now.” I kept my voice steady, refusing to show fear.
“I can’t believe how quickly you moved on,” he continued, ignoring my demand. “Six years together, and you replace me in weeks. Was there something between you two before? Is that why you’re so comfortable with him?”
I scoffed, anger rising in me. “You have some nerve talking about moving on quickly. You married my stepsister on our wedding day!”
Julian’s face hardened. “That was different. Ivy was dying.”
“And now she’s dead, so you think you can come crawling back?” The words came out harsher than I intended, but I was past caring. “Get out of my studio.”
Instead of leaving, Julian reached out and grabbed my wrist–the one holding my tailoring shears. I hadn’t even realized I was still clutching them.
“Let’s stop this nonsense, Hazel,” he said, his grip tightening. “Ivy’s gone. We can go back to how things were. I made a mistake, I admit it.
“A mistake?” I tried to pull away, but he held firm. “You humiliated me in front of everyone I know. You married someone else. That’s not a mistake, Julian–that’s a choice.
His eyes flashed with irritation. “Is this about pride? Or is it about Sterling? Are you using him to make me jealous?”
I almost laughed at the absurdity. “Not everything is about you, Julian. Now let go of
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“What does he have that I don’t?” Julian demanded, his grip painfully tight now. “Money? Power? Is that what you want?”
The tailoring shears trembled in my hand as I fought to control my temper. “What I want is for you to get out!”
My phone rang suddenly, the sound cutting through our tense standoff. The display lit up with Damien’s name and photo. Julian’s gaze darted to it, and before I could react, he snatched the phone from my desk with his free hand.
“Julian, don’t-” I began, but he had already answered.
“Sterling, Julian snarled into the phone. “This is Julian Grayson. I think it’s time we had
a little talk about Hazel.”
I couldn’t hear Damien’s response, but Julian’s face darkened.
“She’s my wife, Sterling. We’re working things out, so back off,” Julian lied, his eyes locked
n mine, daring me to contradict him./
I struggled harder now, trying to free my wrist. “Give me my phone!”
“I don’t care how much money you have or who your family is,” Julian continued into the phone, his voice rising. “Hazel and I won’t be divorcing. So whatever you think is happening between you two needs to stop.”
In our struggle, I yanked my arm back forcefully. The sharp movement caused Julian to lose his grip–both on my wrist and his balance. As he stumbled, I lunged for my phone, but the tailoring shears in my hand slipped.
Everything happened in slow motion. The shears fell, point down. Julian tried to step back but wasn’t fast enough. The sharp tip caught his thigh, slicing through his pants before clattering to the floor.
“Fuck!” Julian howled, clutching his leg as a dark stain began spreading across the
fabric.
My own forearm stung–the shears had grazed me too as they fell. I quickly grabbed my phone from Julian’s loosened grip..
“Hazel? Hazel!” Damien’s concerned voice came through clearly.
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“I’m okay” I said quickly into the phone. “I’ll call you back in a minute.”
I ended the call and turned to Julian, who was now leaning against my worktable, examining the cut on his thigh.
“You stabbed me, he accused, his voice incredulous.
“It was an accident, and you know it, I retorted, backing toward my office door. “You shouldn’t have grabbed me.
Blood seeped through his fingers as he pressed against the wound. It didn’t look serious–more of a surface cut than anything deep–but it was clearly painful.
“You need to leave,” I said firmly. “Now. Or I’m calling security.
Julian looked up at me, his expression a mix of pain and disbelief. “After everything we’ve been through, this is how you treat me? I’m bleeding!”
“Go to the emergency room if you’re concerned,” I replied coldly. “But do it somewhere
else”
He straightened up, wincing. “You’ve changed, Hazel. He’s changed you.”
“No, Julian. You did this. I picked up my desk phone. “I’m calling security. You have thirty seconds to leave.”
Julian limped toward the door, pausing to look back at me. “Do you really think he cares about you? Men like Sterling don’t marry designers from Willow Creek. You’re just a novelty to him–someone exotic to show off until he gets bored.”
His words stung more than I wanted to admit. They tapped into my deepest insecurities about my relationship with Damien.
“You know nothing about us,” I said, my finger hovering over the call button.
“I know men like him,” Julian pressed. “I’ve done business with his type. Once he’s had you, he’ll move on to the next interesting distraction.”
I punched the number for building security. “Security? This is Hazel Ashworth in
studio 503. I have an unwelcome visitor who needs escorting out.”
Julian’s face darkened, but he finally turned and limped out the door. I locked it behind him, my hands shaking.
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Only when I heard his footsteps fade down the hall did I let out the breath I’d been holding. Looking down, I noticed blood trickling from the small cut on my forearm. It wasn’t deep, but it was enough to leave a thin red line across my skin.
I went to the small bathroom in my studio and ran cold water over the cut, watching the pink–tinged water swirl down the drain. My phone rang again–Damien. Taking a deep breath, I answered.
“Hazel. His voice was tense, controlled. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, 1 assured him, pressing a paper towel to my arm. “Julian showed up at my studio drunk. He’s gone now.”
“What did he want?” Damien asked, his tone carefully measured.
“To make a scene,” I sighed. “He saw I was working on menswear and figured out it was for you. He got jealous.”
“Did he hurt you?” There was a dangerous edge to Damien’s voice now.
“No, no,” I said quickly, not wanting to escalate the situation. “There was just a small accident with my tailoring shears. He actually got the worst of it–cut his leg a bit.”
“I didn’t ask about him,” Damien said, his voice suddenly sharp with concern. “I asked about you, are you injured?”
The directness of the question caught me off guard. The fact that he didn’t care at all about Julian, that his concern was solely for me… It made something warm unfurl in my chest, pushing back against the cold doubt Julian had tried to plant.
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